


Learning Russian : Standing

by GunKat



Series: Learning Russian [3]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 14:16:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4669736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GunKat/pseuds/GunKat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part 3 of a series of drabbles and small snippets of the relationship between the Chop Shop girl and the Red Peril to the amusement of the Cowboy. Gaby/Illya hints of Gaby/Illya/Napoleon</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learning Russian : Standing

Gaby liked to stand on things when she was angry. Illya always seemed so imposing when he was upset because not only did he look like he could tear her apart, he was also the size of a small tree and if he stepped on her, she'd be hurt by sheer weight of his mass and his stature was imposing. Gaby, not even clearing his shoulder, was not imposing at all. When Illya came back from one of his latest missions beat up and bleeding because he hadn’t listened to Gaby who had the map, the car and the getaway she was angry. When she noticed that his head was nodding as he looked down at her, halfway falling asleep, she was furious. Her eyes narrowed and she stomped up on to the table to be above him, forcing him to crane his neck to look at her, and effectively keeping his attention. He was unsettled as he rarely had to look up at people, so she kept his attention.

“If you ever decide to ignore me while on a holiday again, I will do a lot more than try to make you dance with me.” She threatened softly, “”Or wrestle.”

…

She liked to stand on things when she felt threatened. The first time she’d seen Illya angry, she’d been frightened, but it was in the middle of an externally threatening situation so she’d been able to direct the flow of it, even if it would have put the rest of the operation in danger. The next time, she had Napoleon to happily throw in the way. This time was different, this time she was on her own, and he’d already been though a vase and a mirror, the shards scattered on the carpet. Gaby hadn’t flinched when the vase smashed by her ear as she opened the door, and Illya had paused briefly to look her over to make sure she was unharmed. He clearly hadn’t heard her come in, and there was a moment where his hand twitched to reach out to her before it clenched and fell to his side.

Gaby snorted, and then stomped up on to the nearest knee high object, which at this point was the footstool, and Illya leaned away from her, his chest heaving as he tried to drag breath into his lungs. Gaby reached out to him, and just as she’d pushed him last time, she pulled him into her arms, hunching her shoulders and wrapping them around his head so that she blocked out the rest of the room, forcing him to look at her and only at her.

“Calm down.” She said simply, and he took a deep breath, his hands hesitating before wrapping around her waist to hold her steady. His nose flared and she could feel the air of his exhale brush across her chin. She threaded her fingers into his hair soothingly, massaging his neck and he collapsed onto her shoulder, burying his nose into her collarbone as she relaxed her arms, letting one dangle over his shoulder, laying her cheek against his.

…

She also liked to stand on things when she was annoyed that the men in her life were giants. Waverly was making noises about her staying behind on the next mission, as they had something else that they needed her on. He was waving at another mechanic, another driver, another tall man, with big, sturdy hands that she would have found attractive if not completely terrified that he was going to replace her. She’d heard the whispers, the murmurs that she was a liability, not worthy of her place in U.N.C.L.E. but she continued to ignore them as she stood on even footing with her comrades in skills. She had to stand on a table to be on equal heading.

“No.” Solo said, wincing as the word echoed in his head.

“Eet is not happening.”

“We go,” Solo nodded at her, “Where we go.”

The three men began to argue, and Napoleon stood with Illya making a feeble attempt to do the same. Solo pushed on his shoulder and Illya grunted as he fell back onto the sofa. The voices raised until Gaby sighed noisily and then stomped up onto the coffee table so that she could be at least at eye level with them, and with the size of the table, she was slightly above them.

“Isn’t anybody going to ask what I think?” Gaby asked, putting her hands on her hips as she glared at them.

“No, we’ll just wait for you to tell us.” Waverly said, grinning at her.

“Fine then.” Gaby said, stomping her foot at the front of table. The table started to pitch forward and Illya was there so quickly with his arm around her waist that no one even saw him move. He winced as he caught her, but his hands were steady. Solo’s lips twitched up in a smile as he watched them. The Peril was down and out until she was in danger, and then his wound was nothing. “I don’t trust anyone as much as them. And I don’t trust you to not replace me while I’m gone with someone that won’t take care of them. Take him, fancy suit, he’ll need to sit again.”

…

Gaby liked to stand on things a lot of the time, especially when Illya was teasing her by holding things above her head. Though he always underestimated how quickly she could climb up on top of things when annoyed, so she could usually snatch them back in time. Napoleon once leaned over after watching her scamper up onto the table in two swift steps, and asked,

“How fast do you think you can climb that tree?” Solo nodded at Kuryaken, expecting their little chop shop girl to blush and stammer but she fixed him with a steely gaze.

“I intend to find out.” 

“Well,” Napoleon said, grinning at her as he chucked her under her chin. “You are certainly full of surprises.”

“Mmhmm.” She said, leaning forward to hum in his ear, her cheek soft against his own, echoing their first encounter. Illya turned around to watch her lean back from Napoleon and hunched his shoulders before putting his hands in his coat pockets. He wasn’t sure whether he should feel jealous, or hunted as both of them turned to look at him


End file.
